The Accident
by Larabeelady
Summary: This is a short, humorous crossover. What happens when the paramedics of Station 51 try to save an injured man, who just happens to be an immortal?


THE ACCIDENT

by Andi Charleville

The men of Station 51 had just sat down to a late lunch, when the tones sounded throughout the bay. "Station 51, car accident, corner of Broadway and Wilner. Time out:1425." Johnny Gage and Roy DeSoto hurried to the squad truck, putting on their helmets as they went. Roy already had the engine running as Captain Stanley handed them the information. The squad truck moved forward as the bay doors went up. Engine 51, with Mike Stoker at the wheel, was right behind them.

When they arrived at the accident scene, Johnny and Roy quickly got their equipment out of the squad truck. They could see that there were two vehicles involved in the accident. Roy and Johnny looked at each other and nodded. They separated and each headed towards a car.

Roy headed to the brown Chevy with the dented front fender. When he opened the door to reach the driver, a half-empty bottle of Scotch landed at his feet. He knelt down in the open door and put a finger on the driver's neck, trying to feel for a pulse. The man stirred dowsily, his words slurred. "Whatsup? Get away, didn't do nuthin."

He pushed Roy's hand away from him, patting the seat. "Where's my bottle. Need my bottle." He tried to get up, but his seatbelt restrained him. Then he slumped forward, passing out once more. Roy shook his head, and continued to check the man for injuries. Other than some small cuts on this face, the man seemed to be unhurt.

Johnny suddenly yelled from the blue car he had gone to check on. "Captain, we need the Jaws. We need to get this guy out of here." Roy glanced down once more at the driver in the Chevy. He could wait. He motioned to Vince Howard, the officer in charge. "Vince, could you watch this guy? I'm going to help Johnny out."

Vince nodded, looking at the driver. "Drunk?"

Roy nodded. "As a skunk," he said in disgust. He picked up his equipment and headed towards the blue car, where Johnny was working. As he got closer, he could see that the driver's side door was completely caved in. Marco and Chet were heading towards them with the Jaws of Life.

"Johnny, what have you got?" He could see the driver was in bad shape. Johnny had climbed into the front seat through the passenger door. He had already placed a neckbrace on the victim, a young lanky man. Roy quickly climbed into the back seat and set up the equipment to contact Rampart General.

"Rampart, Squad 51," he spoke into the receiver. Within moments, he heard the voice of Dixie McCall responding. "Squad 51, this is Rampart, go ahead."

"Rampart, Squad 51. We have a male, approximately 30 to 35 years of age, injured in a car wreck. Victim's neck has been stabilized with a brace. We are attempting to free the victim from the wreckage with the jaws. Stand by for vitals." Roy looked up to see Johnny putting the blood pressure cuff around the victim's right arm.

"10-4, Squad 51. Standing by." Dixie responded. Roy pulled a small tarp out of the box, and tried to cover the man, so that he was somewhat protected while the other firefighters went to work on the car frame with the jaws. Johnny pulled the tarp down the rest of the way, to cover where Roy couldn't reach.

"Squad 51, this is Rampart. Go ahead with vitals." The voice of Dr. Joe Early came over the receiver. Roy and Johnny went into action, the motions as normal to them as breathing. Roy kept up communications, relaying the information Johnny was calling out.

"Rampart, Squad 51. We have a male, 30-35 years of age. Weight approximately 170. Pulse is weak and thready, blood pressure is 100 over 70. Patient appears to have suffered a severed femoral artery, but is trapped by the steering column. Patient also has a broken arm and numerous lacerations from flying glass."

Squad 51, start an IV drip with D5W and continue to monitor vital signs. Are you able to put pressure on the artery?" Dr. Early asked. Roy was already handing the IV to Johnny, even as he grabbed the receiver to answer. "Rampart, 10-4 on the IV drip. Negative on the pressure. It appears the steering column is providing the pressure." Roy watched as Johnny got the IV started, even as the top part of the car was pulled back by the other firefighters.

"Squad 51, be ready with a tourniquet as soon as the column has been removed and transport as soon as possible. Update with vitals in two minutes."

"10-4 Rampart." Roy watched as Johnny and Chet hooked a chain around the steering column, in preparation for the winch on the engine truck to pull it off the victim. When the victim started to groan, Roy reached over the seat and put a hand on the man's shoulder. "It's okay, we're with the fire department. We're going to get you out of here. Just stay still." Roy tried to reassure the man.

The winch started to slowly pull the steering column up and off of the man's trapped legs. Johnny was there as soon as the column cleared the man's thighs, trying to maintain the pressure the column had put on the wound. As soon as the pressure was off, the man screamed in pain, then passed out.

The firefighters worked quickly, getting a backboard set and getting the victim out of the car. As soon as they had him out of the car and accessible, Johnny and Roy got a tourniquet around the man's leg, trying to stop the loss of blood from the artery. They once again checked his vitals, and were worried about the results. Roy got back in touch with the hospital.

"Rampart, Squad 51. The patient has been removed from the car and the tourniquet applied. His pulse is slow and weak, blood pressure is 80 over 70 and respiration is rapid and shallow. Skin is pale and clammy."

"Squad 51, continue with IV drip. What's your ETA?"

"Rampart, stand by" Roy motioned for Captain Stanley. "Cap, where's the ambulance? We've got to get this guy to Rampart."

"The first ambulance was in an accident enroute, Roy. We have another one on the way. It should be here in a few minutes."

"Roy," Johnny stated, "His blood pressure is dropping. His stomach feels hard. He may be bleeding internally."

"Damn," Roy muttered, picking up the receiver. "Rampart, Squad 51."

"Squad 51, go ahead."

"Rampart, ETA is at approximately 30 minutes. Be advised patient may be bleeding internally. Blood pressure is dropping rapidly. It's now…" He looked to Johnny. "Rampart, blood pressure is now 70 over 40."

He waited, knowing that Dr. Early was considering the best course of action. Johnny was keeping a close eye on the man's blood pressure and pulse. Suddenly, Johnny swore. "Roy, he just stopped breathing. His pressure just bottomed out." Johnny and Roy went to work, doing CPR. Roy heard Dr. Early over the receiver, but couldn't answer. Captain Stanley took over the receiver.

"Rampart, Engine 51. Patient has stopped breathing at this time. We are performing CPR."

"10-4, Engine 51. Have them continue IV drip and 100 milligrams of Lidicane. We'll be standing by."

"10-4 Rampart." Captain Stanley watched as his two paramedics worked on the man, trying to keep him alive until the ambulance arrived. He just hoped it arrived soon. He wasn't sure this man had long.

"Marco," Johnny yelled, "we need the paddles." Marco went to the squad truck and got out the box containing the paddles. He ran over and placed it near Roy. Roy opened the box and charged up the equipment while Johnny opened the man's shirt and put gel on the paddles.

Vince Howard came up next to Captain Stanley. "Hey, Cap. He's not doing so well, is he?" He heard Roy yell "Clear" and put the paddles to the man's chest, trying to jump start his heart. Captain Stanley shook his head. "No, he's not, Vince. He's in bad shape. What about the other driver?"

"He's okay, just a couple of scratches. I've already given him a field sobriety test. He failed. The guy's so intoxicated, he doesn't even know his own name. I read him his rights and put him in my car." He looked over to where Johnny and Roy were working, striving to keep the man alive. "From the looks of things, he may be facing vehicular

homicide charges." Vince shook his head. "When will people learn? He drinks and drives and now, some innocent man may die. Damn fools."

Captain Stanley knew that Vince didn't expect an answer to that. He watched as Roy once again used the paddles. Johnny and Roy looked at each other, each knowing that the man was gone.

Roy picked up the receiver, his voice weary with failure. "Rampart, Squad 51."

"Squad 51, go ahead."

"Rampart, patient went into cardiac arrest. We defibrillated three times, with no change. There is no blood pressure, no pulse. Respiration is at zero." He wiped his hand across his forehead.

"10-4 Squad 51. Discontinue CPR attempts. Have the medical examiner's office called to the scene. Rampart, out."

Roy hung up, as Johnny took a sheet from Chet and started to drape it over the man that they had failed to help. He hated it when they lost a patient. He looked up as a shadow crossed over him. Vince Howard was standing next to him.

Vince put a hand on Johnny's shoulder. "You did everything you could, John. His injuries were just too severe."

"Yeah, I know, Vince. It's just hard, that's all."

"John, does he have any ID on him? We'll need to contact next of kin."

Johnny looked in the man's pocket, pulling out a wallet and a small book. He handed these to Vince. Vince opened up the book. "Hmm. A British passport. His name is Adam Pierson. Poor guy. He was probably over here on vacation or something. Doesn't this just figure. I'll go call the ME's office to take the body."

Johnny pulled the sheet over the still form of the man they had been working on, covering the face. He looked over the body at his partner, who was starting to repack their equipment. "Roy, what about the other driver?"

Roy shook his head, his contempt obvious. "He's fine, just a few scratches. Guy was drunk." Johnny sighed. They saw too many accidents where alcohol was a main ingredient. But it never ceased to sadden Johnny. Even with all the publicity and public outrage, people still didn't think before they got behind the wheel. The men were silent as they continued to pack up their equipment.

Suddenly, the body between them gasped for air, and started to move. Johnny scrambled backward, scattering equipment, try to put distance between him and the body. He could see Roy doing the same thing on the man's other side. They both watched in shock as the body rose to a sitting position, the sheet falling to the man's waist. The man slowly

got to his feet, and pulled a sword out of the coat he had been wearing. He began to back up, his eyes moving back and forth as he warily eyed Johnny and Roy. When he got several feet away, he turned and started running as if he were being chased by demons.

Captain Stanley and Officer Vince Howard came back over to where both men were still sprawled on the ground. "Well," Vince started, "the Medical Examiner should be here in a couple minutes, and…" He trailed off, staring at the ground between Johnny and Roy, empty now except for the blood stained sheet. "Hey, where did the body go?"

Johnny and Roy glanced at each other, then back in the direction their corpse had run. Johnny tried to explain. "He…he was dead, then he wasn't." he stuttered. "He just got up and walked away. He pulled out a sword and just walked away."

Captain Stanley looked at Johnny, then at Roy. "Roy, what happened?"

Roy looked up at him. "Just…just what Johnny said, Cap. The body took a deep breath, and started moving. Then he got up, pulled out a sword and backed up. Then he turned around and started running that way." Roy pointed in the direction the man had left. "He was dead, I know he was dead." He just shook his head, still dumbfounded by the

events of the last few minutes.

Vince and Stanley looked at each other. Vince knew these guys, and they weren't the type to play practical jokes. But this was a little weird. "He just got up and walked away?" Vince asked. "But he was dead, wasn't he?"

Johnny swallowed nervously. "Yeah, he was dead. No pulse, no heartbeat, no blood pressure. Nothing. He _was_ dead. He _was_." Johnny stated emphatically, looking at Roy with glazed eyes. "Wasn't he?"

The next few hours were not the most fun Johnny and Roy had ever spent. The medical examiner's office was upset at getting called out for a practical joke. That they didn't believe the paramedics was obvious. Vince's sergeant was asking questions, the fire lieutenant was asking questions, and worse, the press were asking questions. Johnny and Roy repeated their story numerous times, until their throats were sore. No one was sure what to make of the whole situation. The fire chief was uncomfortable with the publicity this was getting and told both Johnny and Roy to go home and stay home for a few days.

Roy pulled his car up to Johnny's apartment building. Neither of them had said much during the drive from the station. When Roy stopped the car, Johnny just looked up at his apartment building, not making any move to get out of the car. Then he turned to Roy. "Can you come up for a cup of coffee?"

Roy hesitated, but with Joanne and the kids out of town, he really didn't want to go back to an empty house. "Yeah, sure." He parked his car in one of the spots and followed Johnny up to his apartment. Johnny unlocked the door and the two men went inside. When Johnny turned on the light, both men got their second shock of the day. There, sitting on Johnny's couch, was the dead man!

The man stood up quickly. "Calm down," he said. "I know what you're thinking, but I came to explain."

Johnny looked at the man. "Explain? Explain? Explain what? How a dead man suddenly came back to life, got up and walked away? How do you explain that?"

The man took a deep breath. "It's a very long story. I don't suppose you'd have a beer?"

Johnny looked over his shoulder at Roy. Roy looked just as bemused as Johnny felt. He looked at Johnny. "This is one story I definitely want to hear. Johnny, I think I could use a beer, too, if you don't mind. I get the feeling I may need it."

Johnny just looked at the man, then walked to the kitchen, mumbling under his breath. "Beer, yeah. Need beer."

Roy sat down across the room from the "dead" man and waited for Johnny to reappear. He took the beer from Johnny. Johnny handed another beer to the man, taking great care not to come into contact with him. Then Johnny sat down next to Roy, and away from the man.

"Okay, talk." Johnny stated bluntly. "And this had better be good. Do you have any idea what we have been through today, all because our "dead body" got up and walked away?"

The man shrugged his shoulders, looking sheepish. "Sorry about that," he said with a vague accent. "But I really couldn't stick around. After you hear my story, I hope you'll understand why. But I need to ask that you don't repeat this to *anyone.* It's very important."

Johnny shook his head. "I'm not promising anything until I've heard what you have to say. Now talk."

"All right. First, let me introduce myself. The name I'm using now is Adam Pierson. But my real name is Methos. I'm in Los Angeles visiting some friends. To put your minds at ease, you didn't do anything wrong today. I *did* die today. Sort of."

Roy put his beer down on the table with a thump. "Sort of? Just what is that supposed to mean. Either you're dead, or you're not. There is no 'sort of' with death."

"Well, actually, for me, there is. You see, I'm an immortal. I can't really die. What I mean is, I may 'die', but my body will quickly heal, and then I'm alive again. I know it sounds weird, but I swear, it's true. I'm older than either of you could possibly imagine. I've 'died' many times over. But, for me, death isn't permanent. At least, not yet. Hopefully, not for a long time."

Johnny asked the most obvious question. "Just how old is old?"

Pierson/Methos took a deep breath. "A little over five thousand years."

Johnny shook his head. He stood up and pointed at Adam. "You are a lunatic. I'm calling the police." He headed towards the phone.

"Wait," Methos cried. "I can prove it."

This stopped Johnny in his tracks. He turned around to face Methos. "So prove it," he said.

"Have you got a knife?" Johnny went into the kitchen and returned with a steak knife. He handed it to Methos, then rejoined Roy on the other side of the room. They both watched in awe as Adam Pierson/Methos pulled the knife edge along the palm of his hand, giving himself a cut about three inches long. Roy and Johnny both stared as the cut quickly stopped bleeding and the wound healed. Less than five minutes later, you couldn't even see where the mark was. It was as if the wound had never occurred. Both John and Roy slumped to the couch, confusion and fear enveloping both of them.

Finally, Roy looked at Methos. "Who are you? Better yet, *what* are you? This isn't normal. People aren't immortal, they don't live forever."

"Some of us do. I'm not the only one. There are more of us out there. The only way we can die is to lose our head. We fight each other, good against evil. We try not to let ourselves become known to the general population. I just heard on the news that you guys were getting a lot of grief over the disappearance of my 'body.' I just wanted to let you two know what had happened. But I need to ask that you keep this quiet. I really don't want everyone knowing about me, or about the others."

Johnny finally found his voice. "You can only die if you get beheaded? Is that why you have a sword?"

Methos nodded. "Yes, that's how we fight, with swords. The winner gets the loser's 'quickening.' All the loser's power and strength get transferred to the winner. In the end, there can be only one. Unfortunately, sometimes we 'die' in front of mortals. Then it gets a little sticky. Can you understand why I need to keep this quiet?"

Johnny and Roy just looked at each other. Then they turned their attention to Methos. "Oh, hell," John griped. "Who'd believe us anyway?" He glanced at Roy, who nodded. "You've got our word. This won't go any farther."

They could both see Methos' shoulders slump in relief. "Thank you. It means a lot to me. And thanks for everything you…"

**Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep**.

John Gage's hand snaked out and hit the 'Off' button on his alarm clock. He sat up, his legs over the side of the bed. He wiped his hand over his face, then got up and headed towards the shower.

Later that day, when Johnny got to Station 51, he was telling his co-workers about the dream. He finished his story, and Roy just shook his head. "Johnny," Roy said, "you've really got to stop eating pizza right before you go to bed."

"Yeah, Gage," Marco Lopez added. "That sounds like something out of a TV show"

Chet Kelly snorted. "Please. No one would put something that dumb on television. Who'd watch it? Only Gage could dream up a silly idea like that. The whole thing is stupid." He turned around and went to refill his coffee cup. The others drifted off, laughing about Johnny's dream. Only Roy remained behind.

"Roy, do you think it's silly?" Johnny asked.

"Well, Johnny, you've got to admit, it is pretty weird. Even for television, it's a little far out. I mean, people who live forever, cutting each other's heads off with swords? Come on, Johnny, let's go get some coffee." Johnny and Roy walked into the station's kitchen.

THE END


End file.
